Page 111 of Chalk Outline
I knew he looked familiar.
“He seems like one of those guys who becomes obsessed after a beautiful girl rejects him, making it his life mission to harass her to prove a point,” Mitch blurts, blowing smoke.
My eyes shoot daggers at him.
“Sounds like it,” Braxton adds more fuel to the fire.
But how is he connected to everything? We haven’t seen him since the day Winona finished college.
I chew on my bottom lip.
“Was he ever in the house with you?” Braxton asks while running his photo through recognition software.
“That would be a firm no.” That was always non-negotiable.
“Larson Stone. Twenty-eight years old and a police officer, just like his stepdad...” Braxton pauses as if for dramatic effect, but when he swallows hard, I know it’s far worse than that. “Timothy Kent. I think we found our dirty cop.”
In a photo he opens from another server, there’s a clear shot of him hugging a man who looks just like Third Eye.
“Daddy keeps him squeaky clean,” Mitch says, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I’m not surprised,” I comment, “Cops make the best criminals.” I saw it with my own eyes at the circus and outside it.
It’s funny how someone can turn from a moonstruck college kid with a mild suppressed aggression and an addiction into a killer working for one of the cruelest men in the world.
We have that in common.
They remain silent, yet their intense expressions speak volumes.
“Maybe they didn’t go after Winona because of Romina if Larson told them about her on purpose,” I vocalize my thoughts. “We need to find out more. Who’s Timothy Kent?”
Braxton immediately looks for the name. “He is Salem’s former chief of police. He quit three years ago. He said that he wanted to spend time with his family in the media.”
“Early retirement?” Mitch jokes again. “The sick fuck is making millions.”
“Well, his wife does because everything is in her name,” Braxton continues.
“Does she know that?”
“Time will tell,” I reply to Mitch.
“Timothy has a daughter, Summer Kent. They live in Salem.” Braxton pulls a photo of her at a college party from an Instagram account. But what grabs my attention are two familiar faces smiling on either side of her. Cash Andrews, the guy who threw all the parties during Winona’s college days. The other one is… Klaus. I met him at the circus when I was fourteen and again when I became Winona’s bodyguard. He was the guy I asked to spill booze on Winona and Larson.
“Do we know where Larson is right now?”
Mitch spins around in his seat to look at me. “He disappeared the day we rescued you, along with Third Eye. You are luckywe managed to get to you in time. You were all bruised and battered.”
“He tortured you in a basement, and you acted like it was nothing. Who the fuck are you?” Braxton gives me a pointed look, but it quickly changes to admiration.
“The same guy I was yesterday,” I reply calmly. I trained for these kinds of situations when I was a teenager for a reason. Romina knew that someday I would be out here. That was the plan all along.
Even when I was severely wounded with many broken bones that I could hardly keep my eyes open, bleeding endlessly, all I could think about was Winona’s beautiful, radiant smile, curving around her freckled cheek and lighting up her eyes. I was surprised that torture wasn’t in the cards for me, like losing a finger or two or being electrocuted just for fun, yet he kept beating me over and over again. Each punch became harsher than the last whenever I used sarcasm against him and refused to play along.
It took me a few months to recover, and I hated every minute I was apart from her.
“A blessing or a curse, either way, I want to be by your side when the world ends.”
“You’re always exaggerating,” Braxton shakes his head at Mitch.
